


I was never cut out for prom queen

by Monsieur_Grenouille



Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:33:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24565444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monsieur_Grenouille/pseuds/Monsieur_Grenouille
Summary: If I'm pretty, will you like me?
Relationships: Brendon Urie & Pete Wentz, Brendon Urie/Pete Wentz
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

"Stand up straight, Brendon." My dad whacks at my back to get me to jerk up. I do, but it hurts. Why do I have to do this? It's not like anyone's going to date me because I look good. I have a good personality and I can play guitar. But of course there's still something wrong with me. 

"Dad, I think I look good enough," I lie. 

Dad whacks me again, this time on the head. "Shut up and practice your posture. No girl will date you if you slouch." He doesn't know I'm gay. 

"Dad–"

"I'm sick of your voice, Brendon. Don't talk as much. Lose weight, too. Stop scowling. I just want you to be happy, okay? You'll be happy if you're attractive."

That night, I can't handle myself. I thought I was good enough. I like how I look. I like how I am. But apparently it's not enough for him, and that's all that matters. He's my dad, so I want his approval, but when do I get it? I grab a blade from the bathroom counter and roll up my pantleg to expose my thigh. People see my arms, but they never see my legs. It can be flawed if people never see it, right? 

I take a deep breath and drag the razor on my leg. I feel a little sting, but that's it. A bit of blood starts to surface, but I cover it. I make another mark right next to it, since no one deserves to be alone like me. 

I just want to make every happy. I should be attractive to everyone's standards, not just mine. People should notice me. My dad would want that. Beauty is pain, too. Different things can hurt. Right now it's my head and my legs. 

The next day, I walk to Pete's house after a long session of ridicule and fasting. Pete answers the door and doesn't even say anything before hugging me to his chest. "You're just fine as you are," he whispers. "You'll be okay. Only two months before you're an adult." 

I shudder and sob into his jacket. I can't do this anymore. I was never cut out for prom king. My dad doesn't know what he's doing, either. "Marry me," I whisper, "I wanna be okay and you do that to me." 

Pete sighs. "I'm sorry, Brendon." 

I kiss him on the cheek. "I wanna be okay." 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm asexual so the smut aspect to this sucks, but I hope I got it okay? It's literally midnight where I live and I swear I'm going to bed.

On his bed, Pete flops down next to me and closes his eyes. We were both breathless and tired from the sex we had a minute ago. "W-Wow," he stutters, "I didn't think you'd be that good." 

I laugh and reach down for his hand. "I didn't do anything," I say, "You were on top." 

He rolls on his side and throws an arm over me. "You looked beautiful. Your eyes really sparkle when you come. Your voice when you moan is beyond anything I've ever heard." 

I blush harder and shake my head. "I'm not beautiful. I know myself, and I'm not beautiful. I'm trash." 

Pete sighs and kisses me. "Even if you're trash, it's called a trash _can_ , not a trash _can't_. Remember that." He pulls me close and kisses me again. I kiss him back until we're trading sleepy kisses for about five minutes. He and I do this a lot, just for my self esteem. He calls me nice names and says things he likes about me while we have a little fun. It's not a coping mechanism, though. I'm just doing things with my boyfriend to feel better about my situation. 

While we're tiredly making out, I hear my phone buzz. "Ignore it," Pete mumbles, tangling his fingers in my dark hair. I agree, then realize what my dad might do if I'm late. I shoot out of Pete's bed and flip my phone open. 

"Hello?" I say. 

My dad's voice comes loud and angry from the other side. "Brendon Urie, you better have a good explanation for this! Why are you not home?" 

I stutter. I forgot to make up an excuse. Tired from the sex and sleep deprivation, I can't stop the words from falling out of my mouth. "I was fucking my boyfriend. No wait... he was fucking me." 

Pete looks to me with wide eyes. It takes a second to realize what I had said, but I get the same look once I do. I cover the microphone of my phone to whisper, "Please don't hate me" quietly. Pete's just scared. 

My dad starts to yell at me about how homosexuality is a sin and how I'm supposed to wait til marriage and so on and so on. I start to feel horrible and beat myself up about it a little, but then it's like a switch gets flipped. 

I don't care anymore. 

My dad can think what he thinks or do what he wants to do, but I won't have any part of it. I'll just be me. I'll have my boyfriend and have my priorities in check. I don't care if I'm pretty enough, either. 

Hell, I don't think I'll even go home tonight. But in order to show my dad that I don't care, there's a few things I should do first. 

I hang up the phone, block my dad's number, and climb back into bed for round two with Pete. 


	3. Chapter 3

Things actually got better once I stopped caring what my father thought of me. I didn't have to be pretty, I didn't have to be elegant, I didn't have to be charming, I didn't have to be any of that. I just became myself. 

As soon as I turned 18, I moved in with Pete. Two years later, we got married. He helped sign my band, Panic! at the Disco. We got pretty famous from that. 

Over the years, I actually became highly attractive. My skin cleared, my voice dropped, and my entire physical form just seemed to shift into a better, more comfortable version of me. I still get hurt when I look in the mirror sometimes, since I look exactly how my dad would've wanted me to look. To him, I'd be perfect. 

He'd think it was his success. He'd think it was all the rough training and prepping. The strict diets and impossible workout routines. He'd think it was all because of him. 

I can't let him think that, so I don't visit him. Truth be told, I haven't dieted in years. I just eat when I eat and sometimes I don't. But whenever I don't eat, it's because I'm not hungry. It's not because I need to lose weight. 

I'm chill, I'm handsome, I'm an adult, and I've got a husband. No one has a grip on me now. I'm weightless and free. Maybe as an adult I could be prom king, but I've always liked democracy more anyway.


End file.
